


Grandmum Knows Best

by startabby



Series: The Big Short Stories [7]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Book 1: Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone, Gen, Harry Potter was Raised by Other(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-22
Updated: 2017-10-22
Packaged: 2019-01-20 01:35:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,604
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12422307
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/startabby/pseuds/startabby
Summary: Even the cleverest Wizard can get outflanked by something... OtherworldlyThe Big Short Challenge Prompt: Original Female Character





	Grandmum Knows Best

**Author's Note:**

> This story was inspired in part by the Cthulhu mythos, though not directly pulling from any particular character or tale in that mythos. 
> 
> It was written for the Variations on a Character section of the Big Short Challenge on Rough Trade (http://www.roughtrade.org/)'s forum, which called for a 1000-2000 word story given a character prompt.

“Use the boy… Use the boy…,”

 

The whispered words seemed to come from the turban on the back of Professor Quirrell’s head.

Harry cocked his head in confusion for a moment, before lighting up in recognition.

“Huh, I guess Grandmum was right, then,” he muttered as he watched the pacing figure in front of him.

“Yes – Potter – come here,” Quirrell demanded as he released the boy from his bonds.

Harry walked forward until he stood before the center of the mirror.

Behind his and Quirrell’s reflection, he could see a dark mass that pulsed and rippled, showing first a glimpse of a glowing red eye, then a long tentacle that writhed, then a mouth full of needle sharp teeth before they vanished into the blackness.

His counterpart grinned wolfishly, showing all his teeth even as he waved a sparking red gem.

“Have fun,” the reflection mouthed. At the same time, he slipped the stone into the pocket of his trousers.

Harry felt his own pocket sag as the stone dropped into place.

“Well,” Quirrell asked from behind him, clearly being urged on by his Master. “What do you see?”

Recalling what his naïve young friend Ron Weasley had said when he looked into the Mirror of Erised, Harry improvised. “I’m shaking hands with Dumbledore. I’ve just won the Quidditch cup for Gryffindor.”

Shoving Harry out of the way, Quirrell growled and turned back to the mirror.

At the same time, Harry began backing into where the dark mass had appeared in his reflection. He felt the touch of a cold, yet firm hand on his shoulder and straightened up as he waited.

Before long, the whispered voice once again spoke from Quirrell’s head. “He lies… he lies…”

“Potter, come back here!” Quirrell demanded without looking away from the mirror. Once again, the whispered voice spoke again.

“Let me speak to him… face-to-face…”

Even as he tried to argue otherwise, Quirrell’s hands reached up as if without his own volition and unwound the purple turban that he always wore before removing it fully.

There on the back of Quirrell’s head, the wraith of the former Dark Lord Voldemort was embedded. With red eyes and a slit for a nose, it would have scared any eleven-year-old boy besides one with Harry’s unusual upbringing.

Instead, Harry’s smile widened until his mouth looked almost too big for his face. At the same time, a figure emerged from the shadows behind him and stepped forward to his side.

The figure was that of a pale woman with hair that flowed around her like a halo of blood and eyes that glowed the same killing curse green of her Grandson.

Those who had known Lily Evans would recognize her features as being similar to the late Mrs. Potter, but the sharp look in her eyes and the impossibly wide smile made her appear otherworldly.

This was in fact a true perception.

Unbeknownst to the Wizarding World, Lily Evans Potter was not a simple Muggleborn as all had assumed.

Her father Harold, a British sailor during World War II, had encountered her mother while out at sea.

The Old One who became Rosemary Evans had been fascinated by the taste of death in her waters and had risen from the depths to investigate just as his ship had been hit by torpedo and he’d fallen overboard. Unlike the rest of his fellows, when she probed his mind instead of panicking at the alien thoughts he’d responded to her curiosity with his own intense fascination. Harold had grown up with his mum telling stories of the Others, but had always been told that they were out of his reach.

Harold and the Old One communed deeply before she restored him to his shipmates, unharmed by his swim in the cold waters.

Years later, she assumed a human form, came to shore, and showed up at his doorstep. By that point, he had married his childhood sweetheart, had a baby daughter named Petunia, and then lost his first wife in childbirth. However, his mind was still the same fascinating puzzle that she had encountered all those years before.

In order to remain with her rediscovered beloved, ‘She Who Dwelt Below the Waves’ allowed herself to temporarily diminish and truly become Rosemary Evans. They were married, and, in the fullness of time, she gave birth to a daughter, Lily.

While Lily appeared to be a normal child, she occasionally demonstrated strange powers. Her parents assumed that they were manifestations of her inhuman heritage, until her eleventh birthday arrived and with it a visitor from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

Introduced to the wonders of the Wizarding World, the Evans family was delighted to discover that the Others of Harold’s Mum’s stories were real. Apparently, Lily had a unique heritage from both sides of the family. While Harold and Rosemary were content in their Mundane life, they enjoyed visiting Diagon Alley and hearing all the stories that their daughter brought home from Hogwarts.

Then tragedy struck the unusual family. Harold was killed in an accident at the plant where he worked. In her grief, Rosemary fled back to the depths and retook her immortal form, leaving her daughters behind to handle things on their own.

Years later, ‘She Who Dwelt Below the Waves’ was once more disturbed from her slumbers. This time, it was feeling the death of her daughter that drew her attention to the surface. As time had no real meaning in the eternal space where she dwelt, the Old One was unsure whether the death was the natural progression of age or something more sinister.

So she decided to investigate the matter. After much searching, she found the house in Little Whinging, where her stepdaughter Petunia was living.

The first indication Petunia had of her otherworldly visitor was the shivery sense of something odd that she could only glimpse out of the corner of her eye.

She shook it off with a shudder before preparing her family for the day. Vernon had his breakfast and read the newspaper before heading off to work, while Dudley was fed a similarly large meal and settled in front of the television with his toys. Only then, did Petunia open the cupboard under the stairs and remove her orphaned nephew from his mattress bed.

With abrupt movements, Petunia changed the dirty diaper that he’d spent far too much time wearing and gave him a quick wash before dressing Harry in Dudley’s old clothes and carrying him down to the kitchen and seating him in Dudley’s high chair while she cleaned up. In all that time, Harry made no noise of complaint.

It was only once Petunia had set Harry down, that the former Rosemary Evans allowed herself to be seen.

Petunia jumped and shrieked in shock, before recognizing her visitor. “Oh, it’s you.”

“Petunia, dear, that’s no way to speak to your mother.”

“Well, mothers don’t disappear when their husbands die, leaving their daughters to clean up the mess and cope with their grief while taking care of their freaky younger sister. Then, what do you know; her sister follows her parents’ example. Getting herself blown up and leaving her sister with only her grief and her freaky nephew.”

Petunia gestured at Harry.

“After everything that happened with Da, all I wanted was a nice normal life. Lily had to ruin everything, just like she always used to when we were children.”

“Petunia,” Rosemary’s voice echoed strangely and the whole room darkened.

In response, the woman shuddered, and then spat. “What, mother, I’m not allowed to complain about your dear precious Lily. After all, I’m just the silly little girl who wasn’t blessed with anything special from Father. I’m just the ordinary one in your extraordinary family.” Despite the atavistic fear that Rosemary could engender as an Old One, Petunia stood her ground as she argued her point.

“You always were a jealous child, and you’ve grown into quite a spiteful adult, Petunia. I see what you’ve done to your innocent nephew and what you’ve encouraged in the rest of your family. Let me ask, why keep him when he’s evidence of the history you want to forget?” Rosemary asked even as she took on a more solid form to greet Harry.

If anything, this question infuriated Petunia further. Going to the small desk in a corner of the room, she pulled out a letter and handed it to Rosemary.

“This was left with Harry when he was dropped on my doorstep. We even tried to drop him off at an orphanage, but he was back the next day. The old freak said something about Lily’s blood protecting us.”

“I see. It appears that matters are more complicated than I had assumed. Very well, Petunia, I will relieve you of caring for my grandson. As we must stay here, I will require use of one of your house’s bedrooms. You may tell all the neighbors that you’re caring for your elderly mother and I’ll appear an old woman when we leave the house. I will leave it to you what you wish to tell your husband and son.”

“However, know that any further abuse of my grandson will not be permitted.” Once again Rosemary’s voice echoed even as she allowed her form to shift from the middle aged woman she used to be with Harold. She transformed into an elderly shape with white streaks running through her hair and many wrinkles dimming the brightness of her eyes.

Swallowing her objections, Petunia nodded, and the odd life of the inhabitants of Number 4 Privet Drive began.


End file.
